


Shall we begin again?

by meletes_muse



Category: Sanctuary (TV), Stargate SG-1
Genre: BDSM, F/F, Light Bondage, Paddling, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2018-08-17 05:50:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8132738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meletes_muse/pseuds/meletes_muse
Summary: Janet Fraiser had never considered herself to be a submissive woman. But Helen had awakened a new side of her personality, a side that she found she was more than willing to explore. A series of non-chronological kinky snapshots about Helen and Janet's relationship.





	1. Negotiation

**Author's Note:**

> I can't tell if this fic is horrendously awkward or not... but here goes! 
> 
> Content note: BDSM, mentions of spanking.
> 
> I don't own Sanctuary or Stargate, unfortunately for me.

Janet Fraiser had never considered herself to be a submissive woman. One of the main reasons she had divorced her husband had been the pig-headed man’s refusal to accept that she wanted a career _and_ a family. That had been one of the reasons, anyway. They had never really been right for each other, not even in the bedroom, and Janet wondered why in God’s name she’d married him in the first place.

Helen Magnus had awakened a new side to her personality, a side that she found she was more than willing to explore. Up to this point, they had only experimented with light bondage in the bedroom, with Helen tying Janet to the bed during their lovemaking, pulling lightly on her auburn hair, and once, blindfolding her. Up to this point, Helen’s dominance had been as gentle as the silk ribbons she used to bind Janet wrists, her commands uttered softly, breath warm against Janet’s ear: _Don’t move, darling, or I’ll have to punish you_.

But just because the ribbons were soft, didn’t mean they didn’t chafe when Janet squirmed, didn’t tighten blissfully when she arched towards Helen’s mouth or fingers. And Janet wanted more.

“Helen, honey?” she whispered late one night, as they lay entwined in each other’s arms.

“Hmmm?”

“You’re so _damned sexy_ when you go all dominant on me.”

Helen gave throaty chuckle, “You make the most delightful noises.”

Janet tilted her head to look up at Helen, and drew a breath. “Could you be... rougher next time?”

“Of course,” Helen said, tracing her fingertips lightly along Janet’s arm. She seemed to hesitate. “Is there anything else you’d like to try?”

Now it was Janet’s turn to pause. She buried her head in Helen’s neck, suddenly embarassed.

 

Helen was surprised at Janet’s bashfulness when it came to talking about sex. Doctor Janet Fraiser was nothing if not forthright. But although Janet was more than willing to experiment in the bedroom, she hated discussing it. Helen had asked her about it once, and she’d blamed it on “good, old-fashioned Catholic guilt,” which of course had set Helen’s mind racing with all manner of kinky possibilities. Helen shifted their position on the bed, drawing her petite lover further into her embrace. Janet would find no judgement here.

“Janet,” Helen said gently, “You needn’t be ashamed, my darling.”

“Oh, God,” Janet’s voice was muffled against Helen’s neck.

Helen kissed her head, reassuringly, but remained silent. In her experience, people talked if you didn’t clutter their space with meaningless platitudes.

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

Helen dropped another soft kiss on to the top of her head. “I promise.”

Janet looked up then, her dark brown eyes sincere. She looked so vulnerable, so far removed from the woman who routinely terrorized burly marines in her infirmary. And it was very much Janet’s infirmary; no wonder Colonel O’Neill called her the Napoleonic Powermonger. Janet was far from shy in the bedroom, but in this, this new dynamic they had been playing with, she was a total novice. To be sure, she was a very charming one – and oh so eager to please and thank you, _ma’am_ – but a novice nonetheless.

Janet seemed to steel herself, then, “Would you... spank me?”

“My darling,” Helen said, scooting down on the bed, and kissing her lover deeply, both hands lightly caressing her neck. She pulled back for a moment, “I would give you the moon if you asked for it.”

Janet grinned at her pronouncement, brushing a strand of hair behind Helen's ear, “Not even the great Helen Magnus could do that.”

“Cheeky,” Helen pinched her lover’s arm and she pouted, cutely. “You certainly _deserve_ a spanking.”

Helen felt Janet inhale sharply at her words.

“Perhaps I’ll be lenient,” she murmured, trailing her hand down Janet’s side to rest on her lover’s hip, “it is a first offence, after all.”

Janet moaned as Helen encircled her in her arms, cupping her buttocks and pulling their bodies tightly together.

“Oh, _Helen_ ,” she breathed, when Helen kissed her neck, fervently. Both women’s hands began to roam, and before long Helen had Janet pinned to the bed, panting and begging for release.

"Oh _,_ Helen... _please,_ ” she begged as she gripped the sheets.

Helen continued her ministrations, she adored hearing her name on her lover's lips. " _Helen_ , please... _oh!_ " her lover cried out her litany. When Janet's begging became even more insistent, Helen slid down her body, settling herself between her thighs. Janet needed no encourgement, and opened her legs eagerly. She cried out when Helen’s tongue brushed her clitoris, bucking on the bed.

Helen’s own breathing was laboured now, and she could feel her body responding to Janet’s pleasure. She continued to circle her tongue around Janet’s beautiful clitoris, feeling her lover's orgasm build. "Oh fuck... _fuck!_ " Janet moaned. She had almost reached her peak, just a little bit more and -  " _Oh, Helen!_ " Janet cried out as she came, quite spectacularly, arching up on the bed before collapsing back onto the pillows.

Helen kissed the inside of Janet's thigh before joining her lover in a blissful, post-coital embrace.

“My, my,” she said affectionately into Janet’s hair. "If that’s the response I get at just the mention of spanking I can’t wait to see what happens when I do get round to smacking your bottom."

Janet sighed, contently, as she drifted into a peaceful slumber, “Me neither.”


	2. Turnabout is fair play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every once in a while, Helen needed to be dominated. 
> 
> This chapter takes place several years after chapter 1. Helen and Janet are married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: BDSM, paddling, spanking. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Sanctuary, Stargate, or any of these characters.

Janet fluttered into consciousness as the sun began to filter through the bedroom curtains. Helen was still fast asleep next to her, breath gently tickling her neck. It was midsummer – the morning air was already warm – and the soft blanket that Janet had pulled over them after their lovemaking lay discarded on the floor.

Slowly, Janet rolled over, careful not to disturb her wife. It was rare for Helen to sleep so soundly, and even rarer for Janet to wake before she did. But what was rarer still, was for Helen to ask to be dominated, as she had the night before.

Now, Helen lay on her stomach, her beautiful backside dappled with lightly purpling bruises. As Janet’s gaze travelled up her wife’s sleeping form, she felt her own body respond. _Oh my._ She wet her lips. The nail marks on Helen’s back were testament to just how much she’d enjoyed topping her. The doctor’s first instinct was to soothe Helen’s aches. But she didn’t want to disturb her – and there would be plenty of time for that later. It was Sunday, after all.

Helen had been defiant, at first, when Janet had bent her naked over the end of their large bed. And when the paddling had begun, she'd steadfastly refused to cry out, gripping a pillow and announcing each punishing stroke with little more than a gasp. But as the spanking continued, she yelped with each scorching smack, crying softly. Janet paused, then, drawing her fingernails up the back of Helen’s sensitive thighs, gently massaging her heated buttocks. Helen writhed on the bed, breath fast and short. Wet.

But Janet wasn’t finished with her yet. “Ah, ah, ah,” she warned _._ She’d adapted quickly to the role of tormentor. She hadn’t expected to, hadn’t anticipated just how much she’d enjoy it. That scared her a little. She could get lost in this, in Helen and her quiet tears.

Helen turned plaintively, mascara tracks glistening on her cheeks. “ _Please?_ ”

Janet tutted and shook her head, swatting her lightly, hand lingering on heated skin. Helen groaned, pushing her ass out to meet Janet’s touch. Janet spanked her again, harder this time, fingertips brushing Helen’s clit. Helen moaned, louder now, letting out a frustrated whimper when Janet didn’t continue her explorations.

“Twelve more,” Janet announced, voice thick, “Count them for me, honey.”

Then she brought the paddle down, far harder than before. It landed with a crack. Helen yelled, letting out a sob and a shaky breath.

Janet waited.

“O-One.”

CRACK!

“ _Aaaaah!_ Two!”

CRACK!

“ _Mmmph!_ Three!”

CRACK!

“ _Yaah!_ F-ffour!”

Helen’s right leg lifted involuntarily off the floor.

“Stay in position, darling,” Janet warned, “or there’ll be extras.”

She laid the remaining strokes on swiftly. Helen’s cries became full bodied yells. In this, as in everything else, Helen would push herself to the limit, given half a chance. But they were fast approaching the point where the pain would no longer be enjoyable. 

S&M, Helen had once said, was all about finesse. It was all about patience, about anticipation. Janet hadn’t understood at first. But Helen had soon taught her, binding Janet’s hands high above her head and gently tracing the tip of a leather riding crop across her bare breasts. _Oh darling_ , she had whispered in her ear, _you have so much to learn._

Janet paused, watching her lover, anticipating. The final stoke, they both knew, would be the hardest.

Helen screamed as it landed, slapping the mattress with her right hand. Sobbing.

Janet dropped the paddle, and went to her, rubbing her back and whispering words of comfort, telling her how well she’d done, how good she’d been.

Then she coaxed her across her knees and reached for the cool cream that she'd placed on the bedside table in preparation. A ritual of sorts; deft fingers soothed heated skin. Helen sighed and moaned, arching into Janet’s touch.

 

Much later, with Janet’s arms wrapped tightly around her, Helen wept.

“That’s it, honey, let it all go.”

When Helen woke this morning, she would hold her again.


	3. Putty in her hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Sanctuary or Stargate.

Helen Magnus was a reluctant submissive. It wasn’t that she didn’t recognize her own inherent desire to be dominated, nor that she didn’t enjoy it when she did finally resign herself to it. But she didn’t give up control quite so easily as Janet. Janet was playful. Saucy, even. Janet liked good girl spankings dressed up as punishments. She liked pretending to be bad. She liked sex.

Helen liked pain; white hot heat that robbed her of all coherent thought. She liked feeling Janet’s marks on her, days after they had played. She liked a good beating. Consensual, of course, but right on the edge of what most people would enjoy. She liked sex too, but for her sex and kink weren’t necessarily one and the same. Sometimes a good flogging was just as satisfying as an orgasm. When Helen was on the receiving end, that is.

Janet, on the other hand, was horrified at the very thought that Helen might spank her without at least the promise of sex. Which was why she was currently making doe-eyes at her from her position in the corner of Helen’s study. She was supposed to be facing the wall, but had made it quite clear that she didn’t like the injunction. Not one bit. Helen wondered whether she should spank her again for good measure.

The idea of further subduing her petite lover _was_ rather enticing, but she quickly dismissed it. Janet looked as though she was about to combust with desire. No, if Helen prolonged their scene now Janet would be _very_ frustrated. Sometimes, even Janet agreed that it was worth it, for the earth shattering orgasms that would come later. But tonight, she needed it fast and dirty. And Helen knew that when she touched her, Janet would be putty in her practised hands.

She would take her on the couch, she decided then, with the double-headed vibrator that she kept in her desk for just such occasions. Janet would wrap her arms around Helen’s neck, limbs melting around her, and Helen would fuck them into screaming, shuddering oblivion.

Sometimes, Helen reflected, kink and sex could go _very_ well together. Very well indeed.


	4. Stories from the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen takes Janet on a trip down memory lane. 
> 
> Fair warning (Dr Zimmerman) this is basically a Sanctuary fic for those who like reading about sex with a healthy side dish of spanking, or vice versa ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN: brief discussion of Victorian corporal punishment (caning). Other warnings in tags. 
> 
> It should go without saying, but I’ll say it anyway: this author is opposed to all forms of corporal punishment, except consensual kinky play between adults.

“When did you know?” Janet asked as they lay by the roaring fire in the quarters that had once been Helen’s, but which had slowly, subtly, become theirs.

“Know what, my darling?”

Helen eyed her intently, fingers lightly brushing the hair from her flushed cheeks. Both women were covered in a thin sheen of sweat and Janet’s breathing hadn’t quite returned to normal yet.

“Know that you liked this.”

“Snuggling by the fire after making love so thoroughly to my beautiful wife?”

Janet let out a little huff of frustration. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, and being coy doesn’t suit you, Helen.”

“I’m sorry, my love,” Helen pulled her closer, placing a soft kiss on her shoulder. “But there’s no need to embarrassed. Not with me.”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

Helen made a noise that suggested she was unconvinced, and Janet huffed again. She propped herself up on her elbow. “Aren’t you even a little embarrassed?”

Helen affected an air of flighty innocence, toying with a lock of her wife’s hair, “What about? That I spank your lovely bottom when you’re naughty?” She lowered her voice to a husky whisper, “And sometimes, when you’re very, very good?”

She paused for a moment, enjoying the flush on her wife’s cheeks

“Or that I tie you up and flog you?” She drew her fingers lightly down Janet’s arm, “Or drip hot wax onto your beautiful abdomen?” Janet gasped, as her fingers ghosted the area in question, “Or put my cock in your delectable a-”

“Helen!”

Janet’s fingers closed around her wandering hand. She really was adorable when she was pretending to be shocked. Helen knew that she loved all these things, especially the impact play.

“Are you going to tell me or not?”

“You’re very cheeky today.” Lifting Janet’s hand to her lips, she kissed it softly, but when she spoke, she affected a stern tone, “Do I need to spank you again?”

Janet shook her head, pulling her hand away. She swallowed. “No ma’am.”

“ _Good girl_.”

When Helen drew her into a languid kiss, she practically melted. Helen shifted a little on the rug, reaching for the soft blanket resting on the sofa behind them. Once they were both comfortable, she began her story.

“It was 1929...”

 

 

Helen laughed as Rosanna grabbed her hand and dragged her away from the party. She hadn’t felt this young in a very long time, and she was a more than a little tipsy. At twenty-two, Rosanna was very young indeed, but there was something about her youthful energy and intensity that made Helen feel gloriously daring and so very alive.

Rosanna cast a wicked glance over her shoulder as she led her out an unassuming side door and into the cool darkness of the service corridor. A maid hurried by with a tray of drinks, bobbing a quick curtsy as she passed, “Ma’am.” The hallway filled with light as she pulled open the door to the ballroom, darkening again as it closed with a soft click. 

Without further delay, Rosanna pushed Helen back against the hard wall, forcing a surprised gasp. “Sorry, darling,” but her smile was unrepentant as she leaned in for a kiss. Unlike most of the women Helen had taken as lovers, Rosanna had no desire to be wooed or doted on. No, she was the one who had turned up at Helen’s bedroom door that evening, kissing her in a way that made her weak at the knees. Her auburn bob and short emerald dress — so very daring to eyes that had been brought up to think the mere sight of flesh scandalous — matched a refreshingly forward personality, one that was even more determined than Helen herself had been at that age. 

Helen was distracted from her train of thought when Rosanna’s hand slipped under her the fringed hem of her own scandalously short dress. She let out a throaty moan as the hand wandered higher. She felt wanton and sexy and wanted and _oh, dear God, Rosanna knew how to use those skilled fingers._

Helen felt teeth graze her neck, a free hand came up to knead her breast. She cried out this time, eliciting a satisfied noise from her lover.  _Dear God, oh, dear, dear God_. Helen lost herself in a haze of pleasure. She was vaguely aware of the Charleston starting up in the ballroom next door. “Your... ff...ffavourite,” she gasped out between moans and a soft cry as her lover’s teeth marked her neck.

“Oh, _Helen_ ,” Rosanna’s breath was hot against her ear, “my favourite’s right here.” Helen lost it completely then, coming with frightening intensity and crying out so loudly that Rosanna clamped a hand over her mouth. Helen slumped forward, resting her head on her lover’s shoulder, catching her breath. Rosanna held her close. “You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, stroking fingers through her hair.

Helen smiled lazily into Rosanna’s shoulder. She felt cherished in a way she’d rarely felt with lovers.

Rosanna took her hand, lifting it to her lips for a soft kiss. She was charmingly chivalrous sometimes, especially when she was angling to take Helen to bed. “Let’s go upstairs,” she whispered.

“But the party —”

“Will be here again tomorrow night.”

Rosanna pulled Helen lightly forward, before pushing her softly in the direction of her bedroom. When Helen hesitated, she felt a sharp smack on her backside. She gasped, spinning around to face her lover, cheeks heating.

Rosanna looked entirely too pleased with herself.

“Thought you might like that.”

“I do not!”

But she could feel the blush spreading down her neck and across her chest. She did like it. She liked it a great deal.

Rosanna leant in to claim a steamy kiss, “methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

“Oh, do shut up,” Helen pouted, blushing furiously then. Rosanna placed her hands on her shoulders, turning her back around with a smirk. When Helen didn’t move, she smacked her again. “Hey!” Helen protested, trying and failing to muster annoyance. She could feel the warm heat raging inside her. She licked her lips. 

Rosanna looked smug. She tutted in a manner all too reminiscent of Helen’s governess, before taking her hand and leading her firmly along the hallway in the direction of a narrow stairwell that Helen knew led to her chambers. The house itself was vast, and even with the large party of guests that Rosanna and her elder sister had invited for the weekend, some of the rooms remained unoccupied. Helen’s own suite was spectacular, though she hadn’t actually slept in the sumptuous four-poster yet. 

When they arrived at Rosanna’s rooms, she led Helen across the soft carpet, sitting her gently down on the end of the bed. Helen watched as she knelt at her feet, lifting up her right foot and unlacing the heeled shoe with infinite care. The other shoe followed swiftly, and she slid her hands up Helen’s calf, and up, up past her knees to remove her sheer stockings. Helen closed her eyes, leaning back as the silk whispered down her legs.

“We’re going to try a little experiment,” Rosanna’s voice was husky. Helen opened her eyes to see her looking up at her intently. She stood, slipping her own heels off and padding over to the large walk-in closet. Helen watched her curiously. When she emerged mere moments later, Helen drew in a sharp breath. In her slender hands, Rosanna held a long, thin cane. She eyes Helen intently as she tapped it softly against her open palm. “Have you ever felt one of these before?”

Helen swallowed, shaking her head.

“Didn’t you get whacked at school?” Rosanna asked, curiously.

“Well, yes,” Helen nodded. “And it was awful.” She shot her lover a pointed look, sliding her hands safely under her thighs. The very thought made her shiver. “Not like this, though.”

She gestured towards the sumptuous bed.

Rosanna nodded thoughtfully. “This is different.”

“Is it?”

Helen heard the challenge in her own voice, but there was a genuine question there too. She’d always been adventurous, but this was new to her. She’d read De Sade, surreptitiously and by candlelight, before she went up to Oxford, but she’d never really seen the appeal. Or, she had seen the appeal, but De Sade himself was such an unsympathetic personality that she’d found it almost impossible to see past his smug prose. In any case, she’d never really found someone she trusted enough to experiment with, and she was far too embarrassed to ask James.

Rosanna moved to sit next to her on the bed. “We won’t do anything you don’t want, darling,” she leant in to kiss her cheek, “But I think you’ll like this.”

“Oh?” Helen shifted slightly, “And why is that?”

“Well...” Rosanna put a warm hand on Helen’s knee, “when we were in bed last night, and I said you ought to be punished for being so wanton —” Helen groaned, “you came so hard I thought you were going to faint.”

Helen wasn’t sure why she was so embarrassed. She hadn’t been embarrassed about sex since sometime in the 1880s. After she’d had sex, the embarrassment was very short lived indeed. But this seemed... deviant somehow. Logically, she knew it was ridiculous; they were both adults and what they did in the privacy of Rosanna’s bedchamber was no one’s business but their own. But there was something about this that made her feel ashamed.

“Rosanna, I...”

“Why don’t we start with something a little lighter?”

She obviously sensed Helen’s fear of the cane. She was right, of course, and who wouldn’t be scared.

Helen gave her lover a questioning look, and Rosanna raised her right hand, wiggling her fingers in a comedic little wave.

“Your hand?” Helen raised her eyebrows, sceptically. But she could feel herself blushing as her heart hammered in her chest.

“Oh, Helen,” Rosanna purred, a knowing look on her face, “you know how skilled my hands can be, _darrling_.” She drew out the syllables, eyes alight with mirth.

Helen laughed, but gave her lover an appraising look. She trusted her, so what harm could it do? Besides, deep down, she knew that this was something she’d been curious about since even before she’d managed to get her hands on a copy of _Justine_.

“Alright,” Helen was a little breathless.

“Yes?” Rosanna asked.

“Yes,” she affirmed, voice louder this time, sure. 

Rosanna’s green eyes were eager but earnest. “Right then,” she licked her lips, “but we’re going to decide on a word that you can say if this gets too much.”

“Can’t I just say ‘stop’?”

That seemed eminently more sensible.

Rosanna shook her head, a small smile creeping up onto her lips.

“Oh, no, darling. I want you to beg me to stop, but I want to be able to ignore your sweet little pleas for mercy.”

Helen frowned, maybe this wasn’t — 

“ _But_ ,” Rosanna continued, before she could get a word in edgeways, “if you say the word, it means you’re serious, and I’ll stop. Immediately.” She took Helen’s hands in hers, “I would never hurt you, darling.” She cleared her throat and her eyes smouldered, “No more than you want me to, at any rate.”

Helen felt her breath quicken, but she took a moment to consider what her lover was saying. It did make a certain amount of sense, she supposed, and would allow for a bit of play acting that would make the whole thing seem a bit more real. She was actually a little disappointed that she wouldn’t really be helpless and at her lover’s mercy. It was ridiculous, of course, but she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like. She shelved that thought as an intriguing one to be thoroughly examined at another time. 

“Sanctuary,” she said. That would be her word. 

“Right then,” Rosanna said again, and for the first time Helen saw hesitation in her dark green eyes. But any uncertainty was quickly masked as she squeezed Helen’s hand reassuringly. Then, in a commanding tone, “Stand up and take off your dress.” 

Helen felt a brief flash of indignance before she gave into the nature of their game. She stood, slowly, dropping her hands to to the hem of her dress and pulling it up over her head. Rosanna’s eyes roved appreciatively over her lacy black brassiere and matching knickers. 

“Oh, Helen,” she purred, “what a naughty girl you are.” She scooted up the bed, resting her back against the headboard as she stretched her legs out in front of her. She crooked her finger, lips quirked up in a satisfied smile, “Come here, Helen.”

Helen swallowed, desire coursing through her as she climbed onto the end of the bed, crawling towards to her still-dressed lover. When she reached her, she hesitated. “Lie across my lap, darling,” Rosanna urged. 

With an overwhelming sense of anticipation, Helen positioned herself over Rosanna’s thighs. It felt incredibly intimate, lying there in nothing but her underwear, but she also felt strangely safe, given what was about to happen. She jumped slightly as she felt Rosanna unclasp her bra. “Let’s make you a little more comfortable, shall we?” 

Helen sighed, relaxing as Rosanna carefully removed the garment, and enjoying the pleasant sensation as her nipples brushed the soft sheets. “Good girl,” Rosanna husked, patting her backside. Helen squirmed slightly. 

“Oh, no,” Rosanna tutted, “none of that now.”

Helen was panting a little; and she groaned slightly as she stilled. 

Rosanna drew her fingertips up Helen’s thighs, and she could feel herself getting very wet indeed. 

“Please,” she whispered. 

Rosanna chuckled darkly. “Patience, darling. We’ll get there soon enough.” 

But it was several more torturous minutes of feather-light touching and stroking, before Helen felt Rosanna’s fingers slip beneath the waistband of her knickers. She gasped slightly as her bottom was exposed to the cool air, squirming again. 

“What did I tell you, Helen?” Rosanna lectured, “stay in position, naughty girl.”

Helen bristled, and was about to open her mouth to tell Rosanna to bloody get on with it, when a sharp smack cracked down in the middle of her bottom. 

“Yeow!” she yelled before she could stop herself, gripping onto the sheets.

“Uh, huh,” Rosanna chuckled. 

“Oh!” Helen gasped again as second slap landed. 

A series of cries announced three, four, and five. 

Rosanna paused, then, rubbing Helen’s already tingling bottom. 

“Very pretty,” she remarked, but before Helen could utter a word, she brought her hand down again. _Hard_.

Helen groaned, crossing her ankles.

“Mmm,” Rosanna agreed, “you didn’t think I’d go easy on you, did you Helen?” She tsked and brought her hand down again. 

As Rosanna continued to whack her, Helen began to wriggle on her lap, crying out with each resounding blow. When she shifted her hips slightly in a vain attempt to shield her bottom from the continuing onslaught, Rosanna grabbed her firmly about the waist, holding her still. “Do you think you could take five more?” she husked. 

Helen was panting now, and though her bottom throbbed, desire coursed through her entire being. “Oh, yes,” Helen’s voice was breathy, “please, darling.”

Rosanna made an appreciative noise, before bringing her hand down on the delicate skin just above Helen’s thighs. The slaps landed in quick succession on her now tender bottom as Helen kicked, riding out the pain.

Rosanna’s punishing hand descended one final time, and Helen’s body went limp over her lap. She panted into the sheets. A gentle hand rubbed her back. 

“You did so very well, darling.”

Helen moaned as she felt Rosanna’s hand slip between her folds. 

“Oh, _yes_ ,” she moaned, “Oh, darling, _there_.” 

It didn’t take long before Helen was coming for the second time that evening, howling her pleasure into the sheets. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Rosanna said again, softly, as Helen came back down. And when her breathing had returned to normal, she coaxed her carefully up off her lap, urging her under the covers. Strong arms held her close. 

“You’re still wearing far too many clothes,” Helen mumbled, snuggling into her embrace.

“Perhaps,” she could hear the smile in Rosanna’s voice, “but rest a while now.” 

“Mmm,” Helen sighed contently, as she drifted off into a light slumber. 

 

  

As Helen finished her story, Janet looked up at her, eyes wide.

Helen couldn’t resist teasing, “There _are_ some old photographs.”

"Photographs?" Janet’s voice was a little hoarse. 

“Mmmm, showing me in some rather revealing poses. And since it’s recently come to my attention that you, my love, are a shameless voyeur, perhaps I’ll show them to you sometime.” She dropped a kiss on her lover’s head, “Only if you’re very good, of course.”

Janet shivered. The only thing she enjoyed more than submitting to Helen was watching Helen tied up and helpless. Once or twice, Ranna had even reduced her to begging. And Helen Magnus did not beg. Not usually, anyway. When she did, though, she was gorgeous.

“I’ll be good,” Janet assured her. 

“Oh, darling,” Helen drew her up to claim her lips once more, “I know you will.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
